Warrior
by TheWabbajackX
Summary: The good man had gone to war once before. A new body and new personality. No longer the Doctor, will this new man lose himself to the anger and fury of war? Is the Doctor truly no more? ((Headcanon on what the War Doctor was like before he went after the Moment.))
1. Rebirth

"Will it hurt?"

"Yes," was the reply.

"Good." The Doctor stared at the chalice in his hands, the liquid dancing to and fro inside it with every movement. It was time. His time. The memories of all his adventures in his current form rushed through his head. He had had some incredible adventures, meeting many wonderful people and seeing such exotic places. Those times seemed like so many regenerations ago. It had proven incredibly difficult to remember a time before the storm of the Last Great Time War thundered through the entire universe.

"Charley, C'rizz, Lucie, Tamsin, Molly," he listed. The Doctor saw their faces in the concoction before him. C'rizz, Lucie, and Tamsin were safe from the danger this war was drowning the universe in. Their deaths still cut him deeply, but he took comfort in knowing that no more harm could come to them. Molly would have been horrified by the actions of the Time Lords and Daleks on Gallifrey, but she would have done all that she could have to treat any wounds brought to her. He was unsure whether or not Charley would be proud of him or ashamed. She would have had a fit with his choice to now officially enter the fray. If it had been any other scenario, the Doctor would have never dreamed of fighting in a war. But times change. And so do people. "Friends and companions I've known. I salute you." He held the cup closer. "And Cas…" He stared at her lifeless body, the guilt squirming in his chest like a worm. As hard as he wished he could have saved her, nothing could be done now. But fight. "I apologize."

"Physician, heal thyself." With these words, his lips locked onto the rim of the chalice and guzzled the concoction down. It tasted awful, and it burned his lips and throat. The wisps of smoke billowing from it stung his eyes. He was glad that it was awful. That it burned. He felt he deserved it. With the last drop upon his lips, the chalice fell from his palms. His arms were shaking slightly, the small droplets falling from his face alongside the beads of sweat on his forehead. The Doctor felt his chest grow incredibly heavy, as though something were attempting to break out. It was beginning.

Ragged gasps then followed, and the familiar golden glow began to billow from the pores in his skin. He stared at his hands in wonder as the cycle of regeneration took hold once more. Even after having done it six times before, regenerating never ceased to amaze him. The golden glow flashed through his face, with him belting out a pained groan. He was doubled over in pain, one of his hearts giving out. Every cell in his body was dying slowly, surely taking its time to cause him as much pain and discomfort as possible. He fell to the ground, the pain becoming too much to withstand. His eyes were shut so hard he could see blurred shapes and patches of colors waving on the inside of his eyelids. The bones in his face morphed and snapped to different positions from before, and long strings of hair shot out from his scalp. It had been so long since he had such a wild mane atop his head. Ohila of the Sisterhood of Karn shut her eyes softly and allowed herself to be bathed in the warm glow of the Doctor's regeneration. With a loud hiss, a bright white flare erupted from his body. She turned and looked upon the face of the man that was once the Doctor. He had long dusty brown hair and a hard stern face, greatly contrasting from the smooth and handsome face of his previous incarnation.

"Is it done?" she asked as he came to reality. This reborn man rose and looked upon Cas's lifeless body. He gingerly ran his hand across her soft face. It was as cold as she had been to him, fittingly enough. With great care, he clutched the bandolier she wore in his hand and strapped it over his left shoulder.

"Doctor no more," he growled. He stared at his new face in the reflection of the chalice. He saw someone different. Much different than anyone he had been before. A fighter. A warrior. A soldier. A killer.

"What now then, warrior?" Ohila asked. He turned to her, his eyes burning with the urge to fight. He clenched his fists with great intensity. He growled an answer as fierce as the fires in his pupils.

"I need a weapon."


	2. Call to Arms

Olyesti burned under the onslaught of the Daleks. The vile beings had taken down most of the railways connecting it to the Capitol. Time Lord reinforcements were having enormous difficulty reaching the city. The small handful of troops stationed to defend the city were on their own and struggling. Half of the city's civilians were taking shelter in the measly outposts and fortifications the remaining troops could scrounge up. The other half had been thoroughly exterminated. Scouting TARDISes zipped over the city as quickly as they could to avoid enemy fire from Dalek saucers. Emptied and shattered Dalek shells and mangled Gallifreyan bodies littered the streets. It was the sight of nightmares.

A young soldier lay crouched behind a scorched pillar, his heart in his throat. His eyes darted with wild fear across the streets and alleyways. The whirr of the Daleks' approach could be heard in the distance accompanied by the sounds of laser fire, the screams of Gallifreyan citizens, and the chilling monotone utterances of "EXTERMINATE". Daleks had circled the outside of his outpost to prevent any of them from escaping. The bulk of the Dalek forces stationed in this part of the city had rounded up the remaining Gallifreyan troops and civilians and planned to exterminate them and then do the same to the outpost away from them. The young soldier was significantly outclassed and outgunned, only able to watch the resulting execution.

"Don't do this!" a Gallifreyan man shouted at the Daleks. "Have mercy on us!"

"Daleks have no sense of mercy!" one spat. A little girl was bawling loudly as she clutched her mother's arm. The mother's face was stained with tears as she held her little girl, kissing her head.

"Get behind me," the man said, beckoning his wife and daughter over to him. An elderly couple was shaking quite feverishly, their old bones working against them.

"What do we do, sir?" a young private whispered to the commanding officer. The other troops looked to the commander for some sort of command. Any sort of command. The commander glared at the Daleks and locked his knees firmly.

"Execute us instead and allow the civilians to flee," he implored. "It would be more honorable of you."

"Daleks have no concept of honor!" The commander growled at the giant tin can.

"Then execute us first, if you must," he said. "Spare the civilians as long as possible." The Daleks raised their gunsticks towards the troops in unison, priming them for fire. The commander clenched his fists and closed his eyes, awaiting what was to occur next. The civilians ducked down, huddling amongst each other for comfort. A quiet wheezing sound cut through the air. It was the sound of a TARDIS. The Gallifreyans looked around to find the source of the sound but could see nothing through the crowd of Daleks and the dust.

"The Doctor!" a Dalek barked. "The Doctor's signal has been detected!"

"The Doctor!"

"Doctor!"

The Daleks began shouting the Doctor manically.

"Mommy!" a little boy whispered. "It's the Doctor."

"The Doctor will save us!" an old voice said.

"Look!" a woman yelled, pointing upwards. "In the sky!" An old blue police box was spinning quickly above them, circling the Dalek forces on the ground.

"The Doctor's TARDIS has been sighted!" a Dalek shouted.

"EXTERMINATE!" The Daleks completely abandoned the Gallifreyans and instead began to pursue the old TARDIS.

"Back!" the commander barked. "Back! Inside the shelter!" The troops herded all of the civilians back into the safety of the shelter. Sealing the doors before them, the troops primed their guns for battle. "What do you have planned, you crazy bastard?" The front doors of the TARDIS flew open, a brilliant light emanating from within. The silhouette of a man with wild hair blowing in the breeze could be seen. A sturdy stand had been fitted to the floor of the TARDIS. Using his newly retooled sonic screwdriver, this new warrior fitted an enormous railgun to the stand. A long and heavy ammo belt hung from the gun and drifted outside.

"Boss, are you seein' this?" a rookie asked.

"That's one of the hardest hitting weapons in our arsenal," another one said.

"Where'd the hell'd he get that?" This warrior clutched the handles on the railgun and pulled back a switch, priming it for fire.

"Today is a good day," he growled quietly. With an electronic hum, the railgun belched out deafening bangs as enormous bullets flew from the barrel of the gun and drilled holes through the Daleks. Every bullet fired erupted from the gun with a thundercrack, and each bullet that struck a Dalek caused chunks of it to explode wildly. Hell was being rained down on the Daleks. Their laser fire was unable to penetrate the TARDIS's shields.

"Our weapons are proving ineffective!" a Dalek shouted.

"Dalek forces are sustaining heavy damages!" another one yelled. More Daleks were cut down in a gratuitous barrage of gunfire. The vile beings were being forced back and away from the encampment where the civilians were taking shelter. They were then being pelted by fire from the troops, who had left their enraptured stupor caused by the destruction and now joined the fray. The warrior's eyes burned with an intense rage, nothing like he had felt before. No other regeneration prior to now had such power burning inside like an inferno. The loud thundering of the gun was now replaced with a soft clicking. The warrior snapped to attention and grabbed the ammo belt fastened to it, finding it empty.

"Blast!" he hissed. He shut the front doors and sat the gun to the side, sliding towards the TARDIS console. The display screens were locked onto the remaining Daleks below, alternating between firing at him and the troops on the ground. "And for my next trick…" His fingers flew across the console, pressing several buttons before pushing forward on a handle. The TARDIS made a sharp turn for the ground and was spinning wildly.

"Evasive action required!" the Dalek commander ordered. "Evasive action-" Before the order could be carried out, the TARDIS barreled into the remaining Dalek forces. Their exterior metal casings shattered like glass as the police box bowled them over. The TARDIS spun around and landed right on top of an overturned Dalek, effectively smashing it to pieces. The doors swung slowly open, and a young man with stern burning eyes stepped outwards. The Gallifreyan troops did not recognize the Doctor with his new face and clothes. He had on a new pair of trousers alongside a new box-frame belt on his waist but kept the Victorian waistcoat from his previous regeneration. The pants ended with brown heavy combat boots with new stirrups over them. He had a new brown leather coat over the ensemble and a fresh scarf on his neck. The ragged bandolier from Cas was still wrapped over his left shoulder.

This new Doctor squinted at the scene before him, watching the Daleks struggle to stay functioning. He reached into the interior pockets of his leather jacket and removed two twin pistols with Gallifreyan enscribed on the sides. The left pistol read "No" and the right "More". Six bullets rested in the revolving chambers of both. With a spin of the barrel, the warrior emptied it into the domes of the struggling Daleks. After the left was dry, he continued with the right. He saved one bullet for the Dalek commander, lying on its side. The warrior firmly planted his boot onto the side of its frame and grabbed the eyestalk, firmly turning it to face his face.

"Doctor," it said slowly. "You have regenerated."

"Correct," he growled. "But you were wrong about one thing."

"And that is…?" it asked.

"I am not the Doctor." The troops were standing back and watching the whole occurrence, still enthralled by the display of furiosity. They found themselves just as confused at the Dalek pinned under his boot.

"What is the meaning of this?" the Dalek commander asked.

"Did I stutter?" was the rough reply.

"You operate the Doctor's method of transportation but are not the Doctor," the Dalek stated. "Identify yourself!"

"You wanna know who I am?" he asked.

"Explain!"

"You sure you wanna know?"

"EXPLAIN!" A sinister smirk spread under his nose.

"I'm still deciding on a name," he said. "The Warrior, the Renegade, the War Doctor. All very good. You and your kind will address me as the Oncoming Storm. Ooh, that's nice, isn't it? I hope all of this is being transmitted to your superiors because they must know that the Oncoming Storm plans to rain great vengeance and furious anger upon them. Before you die, listen well and listen good. Listen word for word, for I will tell you only once."

"Listening," the Dalek said tentatively.

"The Doctor is no more." The last bullet was launched through the lens of the eyestalk and out through the back of the dome. He lowered the pistol to his side and stood there, staring at the motionless shell of the Dalek. This power he felt. This raw energy. This burning passion, anger, rage, and regret storming in his chest was unlike anything he had felt before. He had felt these before but not all at once nor in such powerful amounts. He slowly turned to face the troops as well as the civilians that had emerged from the bunker behind them. They all stood dumbfounded at the devastation before them. All the Daleks had been scrapped completely.

"He did it," a voice said. "He saved us. He actually saved us."

"I told you he would come!"

"He's a hero!"

Cheers and applause burst from the crowd. The man re-entered his TARDIS and lifted his railgun in both of his hands, carrying it outside. His body swayed side to side as he carried the enormous and heavy weapon. He kicked the side of a pillar, causing it to crumble and fall on its side. He slammed the railgun down on top of it, planting his foot on the side of the pillar and his arm on his knee, leaning forward.

"Fetch me some ammo," he growled. The troops merely stared at him for a moment.

"You heard him," the commander said to a private, who saluted and ran inside the bunker. "Doctor, I just want to say thank you for your assistan-"

"War Doctor," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"I finally decided," was the reply. "War Doctor is who I am now."

"Right," the commander said, still not understanding. "Well, anyway, I-" He was interrupted when the War Doctor thrust his sonic screwdriver at him.

"Take this and use it to operate my TARDIS," he said. "She'll understand."

"She?" the commander asked.

"Don't question it," he said. "Take these civilians to the nearest safe zone available." He looked back at the crowd, his eyes darting quickly to each civilian. "It may take multiple trips."

"Y-yes, sir," he said, clutching the screwdriver. "Alright! Form an orderly line! Women and children first." The civilians scrambled over to the TARDIS, muttering amongst themselves with hope, confusion, apprehensiveness, and other sorts of feelings. The War Doctor turned to the rookies.

"Alright, you young bloods," he said. "Who do I speak to to get us some backup?" One of the rookies piped up.

"Reinforcements are heading for our position."

"And with my performance here, that means that the Daleks will also be sending reinforcements." He sighed. "I suppose I should've known this wouldn't be that easy. Well, you DID want to be a warrior, didn't you? Big fighter and all that." He cleared his throat and brushed his long hair out of his eyes. "What's our arsenal look like?"

"We have enough weapons to hold out, sir," another rookie said. "The Daleks blindsided and cornered us before we could commandeer anything substantial."

"Well, we're not gonna let that happen again, are we?" the War Doctor asked. They all shook their heads. "Grab every weapon in there. I want this place to look more dangerous than Rassilon's private security force." The troops scrambled into the bunker to retrieve anything and everything. The War Doctor sat down beside his railgun, letting out a heavy sigh as he gently rubbed the smooth metal casing. He stared at the wreckage around him. As much satisfaction as he took from the smashed Daleks, there was an equal amount of sorrow in his heart for every dead civilian lying in the streets. He felt the anger boiling once again, a sharp huff of air coming from his noise.


End file.
